Come with me and you shall learn how." He led me past the Bastille and up the Rue des Tournelles to the door of an unpretentious house, upon which he knocked.

We were admitted by an old woman to whom Montresor appeared to be known, for, after exchanging a word or two with her, he himself led the way upstairs and opened the door of a room for me.
By the melancholy light of a single taper burning upon the table I beheld a fair-sized room containing a curtained bed.
My companion took up the candle, and stepping to the bedside, he drew apart the curtains.
Lying there I beheld a man whose countenance, despite its pallor and the bloody bandages about his brow, I recognised for that of the little spitfire Malpertuis.
As the light fell upon his face, the little fellow opened his eyes, and upon beholding me at his side he made a sudden movement which wrung from him a cry of pain.
"Lie still, Monsieur," said Montresor quietly.
But for all the lieutenant's remonstrances, he struggled up into a sitting posture, requesting Montresor to set the pillows at his back.
"Thank God you are here, M.de Luynes!" he said.

"I learnt at Canaples that you were not dead." "You have been to Canaples ?" "I was a guest of the Chevalier for twelve days.

I arrived there on the day after your departure." "You!" I ejaculated.

"Pray what took you to Canaples ?" "What took me there ?" he echoed, turning his feverish eyes upon me, almost with fierceness.